Sugar, Sugar
by Oceanic-Crab
Summary: Self indulgent story involving some ocs of mine that I love dearly. This story follows the dear Pink Zircon, who later comes to be known as Cotton Candy Zircon. Imperfection in a perfectionist world Failure in a harsh world Defective in an unforgiving world A gem in a world that doesn't want her.


The world is dark and cold. She can't see yet, her vision blurry and unfocused. Slowly, the colorful blobs become sharp, clear figures. Someone is crouched in front of her. Suddenly, the bright light outside hits her eyes and she jumps, squinting. It hurts, she thinks miserably. The gem in front of her is bright green. A Peridot.

"You're eons late. But at least you're here."

"That's no way to address her!" The Peridot next to her snips.

"Both of you be quiet! I want to see our newest addition…"

The first Peridot rolls her eyes. "We'll have to make some adjustments before you go to your designated station. But first, some questions. One: do you know who you are?"

"Pink Zircon." The gem replies calmly. The second Peridot nods sharply.

"Good. What's your facet and cut?"

"Cut 4XB facet 8K5F."

"Good. Last question: who is your diamond?"

The question draws a blank from Pink. She can't think of any, but she knows the Peridots expect an answer. The right answer. But what is it?

"I…" The second Peridot frowns.

"Hm. Fair enough." The last gem speaks up. A gem with radiant, colorful hair that has a soft white tint to it. "Let's go. We have to hurry."

"Go where?" Pink asks bravely.

Her only answer is to be poofed as the gem's whip slashes through the air, dissipating her form.

* * *

Sometime later, the three gems arrive in a small lab-like room. The gem is placed on a platform as the colorful gem reads off some instructions.

"Do this as many times as it takes. All we need is a Starlite."

"The last time this was attempted so soon, the gem came out deformed horribly."

"That was them. We're better than that. Now, do your job."

The world is dark, Pink notes. Pitch black. Did she die? What is going on? She can hear voices, but nothing makes sense. Nothing at all. She isn't even sure if she exists. Is this a dream?

Then, there is light. Blinding light. The flames dance around her. What are they doing? The fire slowly consumes her form, burning, scorching. This is how she dies, she thinks sadly. She lets out a scream at last, and everything stops.

She's on the ground now, whimpering and crying. A scream rattles through the air, and it takes her a few seconds to realize it's hers. The gems are saying something, but she can't hear them, it's all jumbled, nothing makes any sense.

"It worked! She looks amazing!"

"Welcome to Homeworld, Starlite Blue!"

"Dare I say she's perfect?"

Wait. Wasn't she pink? Pink Zircon? Who is she now? Another choked sob races through her. She stands up slowly, tears stinging her eyes. Looking down, she is surprised to find that her feet and legs are not charred. They're a vivid blue color. She lifts her fingers, curling them experimentally. Exactly five blue fingers.

She's given a mirror. She can't take her eyes off her new form. A little thin, sweeping white hair that flutters in the soft breeze that passes. Her face. She looks just like the third gem, except blue instead of rainbow.

She notices her lack of clothes and blushes. She focuses on the colorful gem and tries to mimic her appearance.

Something shoots through her like lightning. She falls to the ground, hand over her gemstone, which currently rests on her stomach. What was that? Another shock leaves her sobbing, screaming and her gem feels like it's going to either explode or implode.

* * *

"Oh my stars, what the fuck is that?"

Glass digs into her palm. The other gems are staring at her in disgust. Disbelief. Horror. What is wrong? She wants to ask, but her voice fails her. Pink is suddenly aware that she can only see half the world. Her right eye feels incomplete. She can't seem to open it. Tears run down her face.

As she glances at her reflection in the broken shards of glass, her eyes widen. Her hair is poofy, splashes of blue, pink and purple covering it chaotically. Her skin is no better, her hands small and chubby. Her face is too small, her eye too large. A rectangle has replaced her right eye, and it takes her a moment to realize that it's her gemstone. She's also plenty shorter and chubbier. She's repulsed by the sight.

"I told you we should have waited!"

"Fire it up again. Longer this time."

"Please don't! Not again!"

Her cries go ignored. She's poofed again, and this time, Pink braces herself. The flames are brighter, hotter and there's far more of them this time. She screams, the flames seem to taunt her, to mock her.

But if this is the price she must pay to be a perfect zircon, so be it. She sobs, closing her eyes, letting the flames engulf her once more.

This time, when she reforms, her face is spotted with light freckles. There are more on her shoulders. Her eyes are a confusing nebula of blues and pinks.

"She's even worse now!"

"Do it again! I cannot leave with her looking like this!"

"Prism, we cannot continue this. Look at her."

"I'd rather not."

"Prism-"

"Do. It. Again."

The third time, Pink can feel herself melting. Slowly, she lifts up a hand. The sickening mix of blue and pink shocks her. There's even some purple. Gross.

She reforms one more time. This time, she is aware that her mouth is open and she's screaming, but no sound comes out. Only the gasps of the three others tells her something is very wrong.

She tries to speak. Nothing.

"Zircon." It pains her to address her like this. Prism's face is contorted in a look of complete and utter disgust. If looks could kill, they all would be very dead.

"She doesn't even have a voice!" The older Peridot shouts in horror.

"This is far worse than the last heat-treated gem!"

"Satisfied now, Prism? Now the burnt runt can't even talk."

"Harvest her." Prism says coldly.

"We've been given orders not to harvest any more gems. We're out of options here. She must stay. Painful as it is to even look at her, we must keep her."

Hearing herself talked about like this hurts worse than the burning flames. She lifts her head slowly, Prism glaring all the while.

 _I can't see!_ She wants to scream at them. But no sound comes out.

"Very well. She can't phase on anything, so I'm going to need you to make her a makeshift undersuit. Can you handle that, you insolent clods?" Prism sneers at them.

The Peridots scurry off, and Prism scowls at Pink.

* * *

"At this point, you aren't even a zircon. You're downright defective. You're a mistake. A terrible, terrible tragedy." She snarls, her whip cracking through the air. Pink screams, tears streaming down her face.

"You can't even see, can you? Your eye is so cloudy it looks like glass. Ugly pink, blue and purple glass."

Pink sobs.

"Get up, you pathetic off color. At least try and look proper."

The Peridots return with a plain pink undersuit.

As it is fitted onto her and melded to her form, Pink shudders. The melding process is painful as the metal slowly cools, making itself a part of her. She feels stiff as it cools, feeling trapped in a metal suit that she shouldn't need.

It's a plain undersuit, and it mirrors the one Prism wears under her jacket.

* * *

Prism sighs. "Now, I have to take you to my station. I am going to walk several paces ahead of you. Do not try and close that gap. If anyone asks you if I am affiliated with you, you will tell them no. From here on out, I have nothing to do with you. Are we clear, you shatterfodder?"

The Peridots gasp at the insult. Pink nods slowly, tears streaming down her face.

They leave, and true to her word, Prism walks far ahead of Pink. Pink's short, stubby legs can't hope to keep up. She trips over her own feet a few times and Prism doesn't even slow down.

"Hey, look! Another defect!"

"Just what we needed."

"Hey off-color! The harvesting station is that way!"

Pink lowers her gaze, tears filling her eyes.

As they turn a corner, the halls quickly become dark. The stench of mildew and something else assaults Pink's nose and she sneezes. Prism growls.

"This is your office." Prism informs her sharply.

Pink looks around. The room is small, dark and empty. Cobwebs litter the corners, the ceiling looks like it's going to collapse, the walls are cracked and the floor is filthy.

To call it an insult would be a huge understatement. It's degrading, mocking, and downright terrible.

Prism leaves, slamming the old door hard. The thud echoes throughout the sorry excuse for an office.

Pink walks to the middle of the room and sobs.

She and this room are a lot alike.


End file.
